Promises
by thelightningstrike
Summary: Written for 20 word challenge created by Mopcat for the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges Forum. 20 prompts, 20 chapters, 20 different main characters. Currently Smell: Harry/Ginny
1. Remark

_Written for the 20 word challenge over at Harry Potter Fan Fiction Challenges Forum. My mum chose the characters Aberforth and Bellatrix to make it harder for me; I added in Narcissa to make it a touch easier haha._

**Remark**

Aberforth leant against the bar, clutching his bleeding forehead with one hand while groping around for a rag with the other. The pub was dark- it was late and he had no customers. He hardly ever did, especially now that the Death Eaters had taken Hogsmeade.

He mopped at his forehead with the rag. The cut was quite deep and bleeding profusely. If it wasn't on his forehead, he would have attempted to fix it himself- but he never liked to point his wand directly in his face, so he'd have to let this one heal naturally.

He'd sustained the injury looking into that bloody mirror of Sirius'. He was looking for Potter- he knew he'd have the other half- and then suddenly he saw him- shocking green eye and vibrant red scar. He moved quickly so that Potter didn't notice him, tripped over a footstool and the edge of the mirror slashed across his forehead.

And now it was throbbing. Aberforth didn't mind the injury, but the feeling of blood trickling down his face and into his eyes made him feel sick. He pressed the rag to his forehead again to try and stem the flow.

He took a bottle of butterbeer from the side and pulled off the cap with his teeth. He drank quickly, emptying the bottle in moments.

As he put the bottle down he heard a voice from outside. He walked cautiously to the door, gripping his wand with one hand and holding the cloth to his forehead with the other.

"Narcissa-"

"No. I won't here of it, Bella. My son is in that castle and I am taking him away from there as soon as I-"

"You can't! The Dark Lord will know!"

"Bella I _will_ curse you if I have to- I need my son!"

"You don't have a wand. And besides- what of him? Family means nothing- only blood- blood and power… He, the Dark Lord should be your only thought, your only need…"

"Family means nothing? Then why have you followed me here?"

Aberforth lowered himself to the keyhole and pressed his eye against it. The two sisters, so different in looks, where stood in the middle of the road. Narcissa, the cold blonde, was turned, facing away from the castle, toward her sister.

"We are not supposed to leave the Manor, Narcissa. You know what will happen to all of us if He finds out you escaped!"

"Then go back. Explain it was all my doing. I don't care what happens anymore- I need my son."

Bellatrix's hand twitched inside her robes, feeling, no doubt, for her wand. Aberforth wondered if she would be willing to kill her sister. If she did- he didn't want to witness it.

"Don't be a fool, Narcissa. Just come back with me."

"Why should I? I matter nothing to you, nothing to Lucius, and nothing to anybody back there, least of all _Him_. I matter to my son, however, so that is whom I am going to focus on now." Narcissa began to walk rapidly up to the castle; Aberforth shifted his position to the grimy window.

Bellatrix ran after her, breathless. "Your son thinks nothing of you! He told me so- in the summer. He told me he cared not if you or Lucius died at the hands of our Lord, he told me he would rather be alone, independent of so-called family bonds- he serves the Dark Lord now- you matter nothing to him."

Narcissa whipped around, her hair slapping against her face. "You dare…"

"You mean nothing to Draco, nothing!" Bellatrix yelled defiantly.

Narcissa's fist flew up, straight into Bellatrix's face. Bellatrix flew backwards to the floor, lifting a hand to her nose.

"If I had a wand, you'd be dead," Narcissa said, spitting on Bellatrix as she turned away.

Bellatrix scrambled up, blood trickling down her face as she pulled out her stolen wand. "_Stupefy!"_ she called, and Narcissa crumpled to the floor.

Laughing, Bellatrix ran to her sister. "Little 'Cissy, little sister," she laughed, "you shouldn't tangle with me! Ha!" She levitated her sister's body and looked around. She looked around suspiciously and caught sight of Aberforth's window, and he moved quickly backwards. He hoped she hadn't seen him. Bellatrix smiled.

She moved Narcissa to the side of the road and came to the door of the pub. Aberforth held his breath.

"Old ma-an… little old man… come out, come out, wherever you are…"

Aberforth stayed silent. BANG! The door fell to the floor with a resounding crash.

Bellatrix stepped over the door, domineering in the doorway. "Little old ma-an…" she said in a sing song voice, her cold eyes scanning the pub.

His heart sank as she noticed him.

She smiled. "There you are, old man." She stepped closer to him, inching her way towards him step by step.

Aberforth trembled.

"I'd kill you, old man, if it weren't for the simple spell named priori incantatem," she said lightly. She appeared to be speaking to herself as she twiddled the wand between her fingers. "You see, I stole this wand from my master's collection… he has many… just in case… and he always checks…"

Aberforth clutched at his wand.

"You won't tell anyone, old man." Her voice was menacing- it had lost its lightness, it was deep and alarming.

Aberforth's trembling fingers dropped the blood-sodden rag he was holding to his forehead. She sniggered.

"You've hurt yourself too," she remarked, lifting a long finger to tap the congealing blood on her upper lip, and then licking it. She lifted the finger to his cut, digging inside it. Again, she licked the blood from her finger. Aberforth closed his eyes.

"I love the taste of blood…" she sniggered again. She pressed her mouth close to his ear. "You will not speak a word of this to anyone, old man. My sister is merely stunned- and you are alive and well. There will be no murders tonight- if…" She left it open.

She laughed heartily, shaking her hair wildly like the lunatic he expected her to be. "Old ma-an…"

"I-I won't tell," Aberforth stuttered.

"What did you say, old man?"

"I won't tell."

She shrieked with laughter again, before leaning into him, her mouth close to his ear once more. "Old man, you will not remark of this incident to anyone. If you do- you will find yourself- and all your loved ones- in a dark room, where I will torture you mercilessly- in all kinds of ways. Do you understand?" Her mouth brushed his earlobe as she spoke, and he felt the wet blood.

"I- I understand."

"Excellent." She shrieked with laughter again. She stepped backwards, half turned to the door. "Not a remark to anyone…"

Aberforth nodded.

Laughing, Bellatrix ran from the pub. She took her sister's floppy arm, threw it around her shoulder and gripped her tightly. She raised her wand to the sky and began to spin.

Her shrieking laughter still echoed in Aberforth's ears. Shaking, he lowered himself to the floor to pick up the rag, which he pressed to his forehead once more. After a while, he remembered the door, and charmed it back into place, but he remained slumped where he was for hours, thinking of that terrible laugh, his cowardly consent, and most frightening of all, her chilling promise.

_Review?_


	2. Inseparable

_Quite short, but I feel its all it needed to be._

"A drink, kind sir?"

The dirty girl in the ragged dress would usually be passed with a sneer- but there was something about the smell of the drink that intoxicated him, and after all, he was alone…

He dismounted his horse cautiously and approached the girl, leading his horse over to her. "What is it you have there?"

"I made it myself, sir. We have an apple orchard, you see."

Yes- he smelt the apples. The apples, and a bottle of vintage red, money and new leather- all in the one glass. He took it from her and peered into it. It looked as delicious as it smelt.

"Drink up, sir." The girl was smiling at him, a toothless smile, but a smile nonetheless.

He hesitated slightly, then downed it in one. It felt as if he was lifting into the air- he felt happier than he had in weeks- years even- and all because of this girl- this beautiful girl in front of him. How had he never noticed her before? He burned with shame- he had even scorned her once or twice. "Your name, ma'am?"

"'It's Merope, sir."

Merope. A thousand butterflies erupted in his chest at the thought of her- darling Merope.

"Merope, I think I may have-" he blushed embarrassed. He was being too forward, this wasn't proper- but then again… "I…I'm in love with you, and I want nothing more than to hear that it is reciprocal."

Merope smiled- her smile was so lovely. "I love you too, sir. I have for a while."

"Then let's go. Let's leave- throw caution to the winds. Let's elope."

Her face was alight with glee- until- "my father…"

He cupped her face gently in his hands. "I shall take care of you, Merope, worry not. You may never even see your father again- I certainly do not care if I never see my family after this moment."

He lowered himself to her and kissed her lips. She tasted as sweet as she looked. "Let's go now," he whispered.

She looked at him, straight into his shocking green eyes. He gazed back, smiling invitingly.

She nodded. "Yes. Let's go now."

They became inseparable. Everyone was outraged at the scandal that was Tom and Merope, unexpected lovers, but neither of them cared. They spent every hour of the waking day together, that is, until she stopped giving him the potion. She gave it to him daily, never forgetting to put it in his morning tea. And then, when she was pregnant, and he was so, so blissfully happy, she figured he might love her properly now. She asked him one night, "do you love me?" and he promised, "I'll love you, without question, forever."

So she didn't put the potion in his morning tea, thinking everything would carry on as normal, and they'd spend the day thinking of names for their baby. By lunchtime, his promise broken, he was gone.

_Review?_


	3. Once

_Angsty SiriusxLily, hope you like!_

**Once**

She had her arms round his neck as he twirled her round the room. They were both laughing, totally focused on each other.

Sirius looked away, sickened, from the ring glittering on Lily's finger, on one of the hands snaked around James' neck. It should be his.

Remus and Peter where chatting while Remus cooked the meal they were all about to have. Frank was sat in James' chair with his hand enclosed around Alice's, who was giggling over something with Mary while she tampered with the music. Mary kept sending furtive looks at Sirius from behind a thick curtain of eyelashes. Sirius felt sick. He looked down at the bottle of firewhiskey in his hands. It was empty.

Finally the song ended and Sirius made his way across the room to cut in between James and Lily who were in each other's arms again.

"Can I- can I have a word?"

James was surprised at whom Sirius was intending to have the word with. He was looking directly at Lily. James glanced at her, and her face mirrored his confusion.

"Sure." She squeezed James' hand. "I'll be back in a minute, okay?"

James nodded, smiling, and watched them leave the room.

Sirius tried to take her hand when they had left the room but she wrenched it from his grasp. She walked straight down the corridor and opened the door, then carried on walking outside. Sirius had to hurry to keep up, letting the door swing shut behind him.

"Lily!"

She was almost running now, down the garden path, away from him.

"Just wait, just a second!"

She stopped. He could hear her shallow breathing.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

"Doing- doing what?"

"Drinking, womanising- you're giving Mary false hope you know. Acting sorry for yourself all the time- the list goes on."

She'd come out in just a t-shirt and Sirius could see the goose bumps on her arms. "I-"

"Why have you brought me out here, if you're not going to say anything?"

"I am. I- I didn't realise, about Mary…"

"Don't try and change the subject, Sirius." She turned round, her hair billowing in the harsh wind.

"Please, Lily. Don't marry him."

Lily exhaled and looked up at the dark sky. "Not this again…"

"Lily, please-"

She looked at him in the eyes, taking a step closer. "It's over, Sirius. Whatever it was, it's done now. Finite. We're over."

"I'd beg you reconsider-"

"I'm _in love _with James, Sirius. He proposed to me and I'm getting married to him. Now please, stop acting like a bad friend and a jealous loser and get back inside. James needs you. You're his best man, remember?"

Sirius lifted a hand to his forehead and dragged it down his face, rubbing his jaw. "You seriously want to marry him."

"Of course I do." Sirius clung to the shred of hesitation- unless he'd imagined it.

"Don't you remember the night-"

"Don't."

"Don't you remember how well we moulded together? How we were perfect for each other? I do. I can't stop thinking about it."

"It was once, Sirius. One stupid, teenage one night stand that I regret," she said harshly. She began to walk forward, aiming to go straight past him and back up to the house, but he swung out an arm to stop her.

"Sirius! Get. Off. ME!"

He put both hands on her shoulders and held her still. "Not until you remember."

"What? What!? Sirius, you're crazy. I don't _want_ to remember. Just- let me go back inside. We can forget this. We were close, before, remember? We can be friends again, Sirius. We _need _to be, for James."

"Exactly, Lily, close. More than close. Made for each other. I promise you that this time I'll be better, I- Lily- he's too safe for you. You need someone reckless, someone-"

"Someone like you?" She shook her head. "I don't. I need James, only James."

"But I need you, only you," Sirius whispered, looking straight into her eyes.

Lily shook her head, closing her eyes. "You don't," she whispered.

Sirius met he lips with his and she pulled hers away after a tantalisingly short, bittersweet kiss. "I can't." She shook her head again, and moved quickly past him and back up to the house- but not before he saw the tears in her eyes.


	4. Dance

_I don't really like this, but I decided to challenge myself by writing about a nondescript character. It's about Roger's shortlived relationship with Fleur- in which I imagine Fleur would have been very flippant and demanding. I think she matured greatly when she met Bill._

**DANCE**

Roger had been, to put it mildly, absolutely astounded when Fleur asked him to the ball. She initiated everything; from the time they would meet in the great hall to what colour dress robes he should be wearing best to match her own.

He remembers that first dance, upright and proper, and then later the slower, more intimate ones, when she would rest her head against his shoulder and encircle her arms around his neck, and he would place his hands on the curve of her waist.

He remembers when she took his hand and surreptitiously led him outside, and when she began to kiss him passionately, messing up his neatly combed hair with her cold fingers. He'd kissed her back, thinking to himself that this was the best he'd ever get so he'd better enjoy it while it lasted.

He remembers walking her back to the carriage, where she kissed him again, and for a moment he'd thought he wouldn't be able to stop. Then she'd pulled away, leaving him dumbstruck, standing stupidly outside while listening to the giggles from inside the carriage.

He watched her in all of the challenges and realised he was falling in love. He'd never been in love before, but he was sure that the fluttery feeling in his stomach every time he saw her wasn't indigestion.

She'd arrange little snog sessions for them in various hiding places, sending him notes on pastel coloured paper, delivered by her various friends. He'd always go, and there were times when they wouldn't even speak. He wished they would; he wanted to get to know her better. Sometimes he felt he hardly knew her at all.

One of the times, he asked her what it was like to be the only girl participant. Was she scared?

"I am only scared of defeat, and that ees already 'appening, non? Diggory will win, but 'e ees charmant, so I do not mind loseeng to 'eem."

Roger tried to say something, but she kissed him, and he was silent again.

When Beauxbatons were leaving, Roger received a lemon yellow note with a pink lipstick kiss mark telling him to meet her by the lake. She was alone, watching the giant squid drift across the lake from a bench.

"Roger," she said when he sat down beside her, rolling her r's the way he liked.

"Hi, Fleur."

They looked at each other for a few minutes, Roger taking in her perfect beauty for a final time. His heart ached to think that after this, he might never see her again.

"I'll miss you," he said softly, taking hold of her cool white hand.

She nodded. "It 'as been wonderful." She tossed her silvery hair, which was gleaming in the brilliant sunshine. She leaned in to kiss him, but he put a finger to her lips.

"Please. Promise me you'll write." He didn't want this last meeting to be meaningless like all the rest, just another juvenile snogging session.

She was impatient. "Ov course I will, Roger…"

"You promise?" Roger felt silly, but he really needed to hear it.

Fleur rolled her eyes and tossed her hair again. "Yes, yes! Roger, I don't 'ave much time left…" She leaned in again, and this time he succumbed.

After a while, when they were eventually both panting for air after Fleur's rather voracious kissing techniques, Roger stood up, pulling Fleur with him. She looked at him in surprise and he smiled, taking one of her hands in his and putting the other on her waist.

She laughed. "You want to dance?"

"Don't you?"

She shrugged, but relaxed and they began to revolve slowly on the spot. Roger held on to the moment for as long as he could, because even though his heart told him they would be together again someday, his head said otherwise.

As he watched her get into the carriage with a regal wave and a stunning smile, his intelligent Ravenclaw mind told him that the note in his pocket would be the last he'd ever receive.

His intelligent Ravenclaw mind was right; Roger never received a pastel coloured note with a lipstick kiss mark again.

--

But he did see her again. When he was much older, and Fleur much more mature, they met by chance while shopping in Diagon Alley with their respective families. They passed in the street, Fleur with her two, rather beautiful young children and Bill, and Roger with his girlfriend and her bump. Roger didn't think she would recognise him at first, but she blushed when he caught her eye. He smiled cheerily and she shyly did the same. It wouldn't have been much for anyone else, but the blush and smile were more than enough for Roger.

**END**

_Review?_

**Note:** I know Bill and Fleur had three children; this is before Louis was born.


	5. Smell

**A/N: **This is kind of silly and pointless, but I've never written Harry/Ginny and I suddenly had a great desire to, plus I was way overdue on posting for the challenge so I wrote this. Also, I've not posted anything for ages because of school (german speaking tests and english essays galore) and I really hate not updating. I will try and update my chaptered fics too, but my muse is quite a fickle thing at the moment.

* * *

**SMELL**

Ginny woke up and instantly wrinkled her nose. What _was_ that smell? She sat up and looked across at Harry's side of the bed- it was empty. What was he doing that would cause such a stink? She ran a hand through her tangled red hair and yawned, absentmindedly wondering what the time was.

She shuffled into her slippers pulled one of Harry's hooded jumpers over her small frame, shivering slightly as she moved to the door. Picking her wand up from the floor- she was often very careless with it; one of the only things Harry moaned about as he had gone without his wand for a long period of time during the war- she opened the door wide. Seeing nothing but a glow from down the stairs, she closed the bedroom door and descended the staircase.

She found Harry in the kitchen, his back to her as he fiddled with something on the large oven. She smiled; he was cooking. He must be in a good mood- usually he left it all to her- she'd inherited her mother's aptitude for it.

"Harry? What's that smell?" Ginny leant against the marble topped cupboard island in the middle of their kitchen, not bothering to lift herself up onto one of the wooden barstools.

"Oh- Ginny! I didn't realise you were awake!" Harry turned around, flustered, his black apron covered in floury marks, his hands firmly behind his back.

"Are you cooking?" Ginny asked, grinning.

"What? Well, yes, or, attempting to… I wanted to make you something…" Harry explained, his cheeks tinging.

"Really?" Ginny ran over to him, to see what he'd prepared. On the oven top Harry had balanced a baking tray he'd just pulled out of the oven, upon which rested a charred cylindrical shape coated in a sticky green mush.

"It's supposed to be a cake," Harry shrugged sheepishly as Ginny inspected it, her smile widening.

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny cried and flung her arms around him. "It's lovely!"

Harry, caught off quard, stumbled backwards and set her back onto her feet. "It isn't," Harry muttered. "It's supposed to be golden and light, with perfect symmetric icing and Quidditch themed decorations and…"

"You're rambling, honey. It's lovely, honest. And anyway, what's it for?" Ginny said, looking up at him quizzically.

"Do I have to have an excuse for every time I want to bake you a cake?" Harry asked, dusting down his apron.

"Well, of course not, but I was wondering if…" Ginny smiled. "I love you."

Harry beamed at her. "I love you too. Would you like a slice of cake? Although, I'm not exactly sure about whether or not it is edible- so perhaps toast would be..."

"Definitely," Ginny said without hesitation, and Harry rushed to cut her a slice. He plated them up while Ginny set the kettle boiling and they sat down together at the table to eat, Ginny devouring hers as if it was the nicest thing she'd ever tasted. "Another slice?" she asked as Harry poured the tea.

He raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Ginny, it's disgusting." He had taken one bite and pushed the plate firmly away, sipping his cup of hot tea to take the taste away.

"Not to me," Ginny insisted, getting up to cut herself another slice.

"Ginny, I forbid you to eat another slice," Harry said, coming over and taking the knife from her, lifting up the cake and dropping it in the bin with a clang.

"Thank Merlin for that," Ginny grinned, opening the bread bin and putting two slices of bread into the toaster. "Harry? Promise me something?"

Harry poked his head out of the fridge where he'd been rifling for butter. "Anything," he replied seriously.

"Promise me you'll leave baking cakes to me?" Ginny said, taking the butter from Harry.

Harry laughed. "I have a feeling that won't be very difficult to keep," he replied, sniffing appreciatively at the smell of the cooking toast.

**END**

**A/N: **Reviews are the only payment we recieve; go ahead and make me rich ;)


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